Haivers an' Blethers

Dreich, Drookit, Mingin', Buggert ...

Dreich, Drookit, Mingin', Buggert ...

Susan

Thing aboot wur Scots language is tha' it does wha' it says oan the tin. The wurds express so much tha' it maks the imagination flee! Tha's why we choose tae write in broad Scots. It's lik' writin' fuelled by a natural energy, lik' wheechin' alang oan a Calmac wi' the wind blawin' behind ye an' the sun shinin' oan yer fizzer.

Close yer e'en an' listen tae the wurd 'dreich' an' whadya imagine? Aye, it's no' hard tae conjure up a wee picture o' a grey, miserable day wi' cauld drizzle an' nae a hint o' daylicht pokin' through the clouds, is it?

An' wha' aboot drookit? It goes w-a-y further than jist bein' wet or e'en. Naw, drookit is bein' soaked through yer skin richt through tae yer very bones.

Howsaboot mingin'? Haw, there's mair tae mingin' than jist bein' dirty. If sumthin's mingin', it's doonricht boggin', it's maukit, it's fair howfin'!

An' as fur stuff bein' buggert ... it's a' aboot the disaster, the ruined stuff, the burnt stuff ... throw it awa', it's buggert ... end of.